


Say Love

by Eddie_KaspbrakTozier



Series: It Was Always You [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Men Crying, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, can be read as a standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eddie_KaspbrakTozier/pseuds/Eddie_KaspbrakTozier
Summary: Richie and Eddie's relationship is going great. The only thing is...Eddie is unsure of his true feelings for Richie. Is he in love with Richie? Eddie doesn't know what it means to be in love with someone.While Eddie is trying to figure out his feelings, he gets hit with the news that Richie's going to be gone on tour for a very, very long time. It's time for Eddie to figure out his true feelings, and what this means for his and Richie's relationship.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: It Was Always You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551535
Comments: 7
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Friends! This is part three of my multi-part series "It Was Always You." No need to read the other stories, you can read this as standalone.
> 
> As a quick recap - Eddie survived the fight with Pennywise. Eddie & Richie figured their shit out. Eddie is now living with Richie in Los Angeles as he heals from the fight with Pennywise. Also, the character "Liam", is Richie's manager after he dumped Steve's homophobic ass.
> 
> Title loosely inspired by "Say Love" by James TW: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOteLmvdQzY

Say Love

Chapter One

Eddie's POV

Eddie is staring intently at a row of cleaning products lined up on a shelf. He's switching his attention from the bottles to his phone, which is open to a number of websites about non-toxic, eco-friendly products. Eddie picks up a bottle from the shelf and turns to the label on the back to scan through the chemicals. Eddie scrunches his nose as he identifies a chemical. He puts it back on the shelf and picks up another bottle.

"Oh my god, Eddie! Are you going to read every fucking label?"

Eddie turns to glare at Richie, who is leaning over their shopping cart with his arms propped up on the back bar. He looks bored out of his fucking mind.

"Richie, do you know how many toxic chemicals are in your generic cleaning products?" Eddie says as he waves around the bottle he's holding. "And I'm not just talking about things like ammonia and bleach! They're fucking filled with carcinogens and neurotoxins – which can literally give you everything from headaches to fucking cancer!"

"Ok, ok! Jesus, I didn't know I was going to take a fucking bio-chem lesson today."

"Shut up, Richie! Just stand there and be quiet. I'm almost done." Eddie picks up another bottle with his free hand, and starts to compare the labels.

"Yeah fucking right," Richie mumbles as he rolls his eyes. He pulls out his phone, flicking his thumb to scroll through it.

After another ten minutes, Eddie finally selects two cleaning products he deems safe and puts them into their shopping cart.

"Fucking finally," Richie says as he starts to push the cart.

Eddie lightly whacks Richie in the stomach.

Richie bends in half grabbing his stomach is mock pain. "Oh my god, Eddie! Why do you hurt me so?"

"Richie, don't. We're in public!" Eddie glances around. A couple of people walk by, giving them the side eye. "Richie, you're acting like an idiot. Fucking stop it," Eddie whispers angrily.

Richie straightens up. "Well, if you don't want me to act like an idiot then don't hit me." Richie pushes the cart down the aisle.

"Well, I wouldn't hit you if you didn't act like a fucking idiot." Eddie follows Richie.

"Are you done? Can we get the fuck out of here now?" Richie glances back at Eddie.

Eddie mentally goes through his list. "Yeah, I'm done. Let's get out here."

"Yeess!" Richie pumps his fist, pushes the cart forward as he rides on the back of it, one foot flung back like he's riding a scooter.

Eddie follows behind Richie in exasperation. On their way to the register, they pass by a Valentine's Day section. It's filled to the brim with candy, cards, stuffed animals, etc. Richie pays no attention as he continues to push/ride the cart, but Eddie's pace slows as his eyes wander over all the red & pink hearts covering everything his eyes can see. Eddie blushes, then quickens his pace to catch up to Richie.

Eddie and Richie have been together for about three, almost four, months now. It's been the best few months of Eddie's life. Their strong friendship along with their bickering and teasing, is still there, but there's a new layer of intimacy. It's exciting but it's also something they're still trying to navigate.

Sure, they kiss all the time. They even make out every now and then, and they cuddle and sleep next to each other at night, but that's really the extent of it at the moment. Their physical relationship is kind of on hold at moment while Eddie continues to heal. Eddie's blush deepens at the thought. He tries not to think about that too much right now; they have a way to go before they're physically intimate with each other. Not only because of Eddie's injuries, but because Eddie has some shit to figure out first.

Richie tells Eddie he loves him every day, but Eddie's never said it back. Richie typically says it in a quick, casual way – when he's leaving the house or about to hop into the shower. Richie's not pushing him to say it, but Eddie knows that it hurts Richie when he doesn't say it back. Typically, when Richie tells him he loves him, Eddie gives Richie a good, hard kiss to let Richie know he cares for him.

It's just, Richie sounds so _sure_ of his feelings. He knows that he cares deeply for Richie, but he doesn't know if what he's feeling is love. Eddie doesn't have a fucking clue what it means to be in love with someone. He thought he was in love with Myra, but he knows now that he _never_ loved her. He literally lied to himself for years about something as important as being in love with someone; he doesn't want to make the same mistake again. Eddie wants to be sure of his own feelings before he says it back.

Eddie's jerked out of his thoughts by Richie snapping his fingers in front of his face. "Hellooo! Earth to Eddie!"

Eddie smacks Richie's hand away. "What!? What the fuck do you want?"

"Give me your rewards card, asshole! I don't want you complaining to me later about how I didn't save 50 cents or something stupid like that."

Eddie notices they're standing at the register, both the check-out attendant and the people behind them are staring at them, clearly uncomfortable and confused by their arguing. Eddie sighs as he hands Richie his keys with his rewards cards attached.

Richie snatches the keys. "Thanks, Spaghetti." Richie grins and pats Eddie's cheek, fully aware of how much he's annoying Eddie.

Eddie mouths "fuck you", causing Richie's grin to grow wider as he turns back to the register. God, Richie drives Eddie _fucking crazy_. Is that what it feels like to be in love with someone?

/

It's nighttime. Eddie and Richie are both in bed. Richie's curved around Eddie's back, full on spooning him with one of his arms draped over Eddie's side. Richie's snoring softly into the back of Eddie's head. Eddie's full awake, just staring straight ahead at the dark bedroom wall. He isn't awake due to Richie snoring. No, he can't fall asleep cause his stupid brain won't shut the fuck up. He can't stop thinking about the Valentine's Day cards and treats he saw at the store today.

It seems so easy for everyone to know if they're in love. Richie knows he's in love with Eddie. Fuck, Even Ben and Bev know they're in love with each other. They make it seem so easy. So why is it so hard for Eddie?

Maybe he should approach this like he does most things – by researching it. He bets there are tons of studies online about love, how it feels to be in love, what love is linked to, etc.

With a hope for answers, he untangles himself from Richie's arm, slowly sliding out of them trying not to wake Richie up. He tip-toes out of the room, skimming his hands along the hallway to guide him through the darkness. Upon reaching the living room, he turns on a lamp. He sits down on the couch and scoots into the groove of their L-shaped couch, and pulls his laptop into his lap. He pulls up Google and then just stares at it, the cursor blinking mockingly at him.

He's at a complete loss on what to search for. This isn't like searching for alternative healthy ingredients or what medicine to take for his latest ailment. Eddie starts to type-

_**How to know if you're in love with your best friend/boyfriend?** _

Eddie's hand hovers over the enter key. That wording doesn't feel right; it's too specific. He deletes and type again.

_**Is annoyance linked to love?** _

Eddie frowns. Still not right. He repeatedly presses the delete button and types again.

_**Body reactions to being in love?** _

Eddie hits the enter key before he can question himself. This might be the best place to start. After all, Eddie is an expert at researching how certain food and chemicals affect the human body. Love can't be any different, right?

Eddie clicks on the first article at the top of the page – **This is What Happens To Your Body When You Fall In Love** _._ Eddie scrolls through the article, reading the highlighted bullet points.

 **You feel "addicted"** – _Uh, ok!? Eddie has no idea what it feels like to be addicted to something – so moving on -_

 **Your anxiety plummets** – _Oh, that's fucking funny! Good one!_

 **You will experience sweaty palms, a racing heart, and a flushed face** – _Ok, ok, that sounds familiar._

 **Your pupils dilate –** _Ok, how the fuck is he supposed to know when his own pupils dilate!?_

 **You experience stomach issues –** _What!? Seriously? What the fuck!? He hasn't experienced this with Richie, and frankly, he doesn't fucking want to!_

Eddie sighs in frustration and clicks out of the article. Ok, maybe that wasn't the best way to go about this. He frowns at the screen, lightly drumming his fingers against the keys trying to think of another way to approach it.

Eddie remembers how Myra loved to watch soap operas and romantic movies. He never paid attention to them; they just didn't make a lot of sense to him. The way the two romantically linked characters acted and described love didn't match up with Eddie and Myra's relationship. He always thought it was Hollywood's way of glamorizing love. Maybe he should revisit some of those now, now that he knows he was never in love with Myra?

Eddie types into the search – **Best romantic movie scenes.**

A few articles and links to movie clips pop up. Eddie reaches over the coffee table and grabs a pair of headphones. He doesn't want to risk waking Richie up. With the earplugs in, he clicks on the first link – **Jerry Maguire**.

_"I love you…You complete me…You-"_

_"Shut up. Just shut up. You had me at "hello"."_

Eddie pauses the video, frowning at the screen. Ok? He knows that's a really famous quote, but he doesn't really understand what's so romantic about it. Richie and Eddie's version of this would be "You had me at 'fuck you'." Eddie grumbles to himself.

Eddie clicks the second link on the page – **You've Got Mail.**

_"I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so bad."_

Eddie groans softly, throwing his head back against the couch. The words have some meaning for Eddie, but only in the sense that he wants it to be Richie. He wants Richie to be the one he's in love with! He just doesn't know if he is in love with him! God, this isn't helping.

Eddie clicks on the next link - **When Harry Met Sally** \- promising himself that if it's more shitty, useless romantic dribble, he'll give up the whole romantic movie search.

" _Well, how about this way? I love that you get cold when it's seventy one degrees out, I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich, I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts, I love that after I spend a day with you I can still smell your perfume on my clothes and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of the life to start as soon as possible."_

As the screen goes to black, Eddie stares. Huh. While the individual sentiments didn't hit the mark, he at least understands the meaning behind them.

Eddie thinks about all the little things he loves about Richie. He loves Richie's smile, the way it takes over his entire face, how his eyes get brighter behind his big, stupid glasses. He loves the way Richie lights up any room he walks into, his energy and charisma pulling everyone toward him. And yes, he loves Richie's stupid fucking jokes; the way they come bursting out of him without a second thought. He loves the look Richie gets in his eyes when he's annoying the fuck out of Eddie; the look that says 'I know you hate this, but I also know you fucking love it.'

Eddie feels a blush staining his cheeks and neck. Ok…so does that mean he's in love with Richie? Is it…is it really that simple? It can't be…there has to be something more to it.

A hand lands on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie flinches violently, the laptop launching out of his lap pulling the earplugs violently out of his ears.

"Wha – What the fuck!" Eddie screams, twisting around to the back of the couch to face his assailant.

"Dude! What the fuck, Eds! Jesus Christ!" Richie yells, both of his hands up in a defensive position.

Eddie deflates on the couch, clutching his chest. "Jesus fucking Christ, Richie. Don't fucking scare me like that!"

"Scare you!? I kept saying your name. You didn't look like you could hear me so I just tapped your fucking shoulder. You didn't have to go ballistic on me!"

"Ok! Ok! Jesus, I just thought you were asleep."

"I was, thank you! But then I woke you and found you were gone. I was-", Richie gulps. "I was worried you were hurt or something…" Richie reaches over the couch and lightly tugs Eddie's shirt.

Eddie's frustration instantly disappears. He gives Richie a soft smile and places his hand on top of Richie's.

"I'm ok. I just – I just couldn't sleep is all."

Richie's hand moves to cup Eddie's face. "Ok. Are you - you going to stay out here or are you going to come back to bed?"

"I'll come back to bed. I'm getting tired." A warmth spreads through Eddie at the thought that Richie wants him to come back to bed with him.

"Ok." Richie nods and then grabs Eddie's hand. Eddie pushes off the couch, and walks around the couch, the whole time holding onto Richie's hand. When Eddie makes his way around the couch, he and Richie start to walk back to their bedroom, still holding hands.

"So, Eds, what were you watching? Porn?" Richie wiggles his eyebrows up and down.

"Oh my god, Rich." Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes Richie through the doorway to their bedroom. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?"


	2. Chapter Two

Say Love

Chapter Two

Eddie's POV

Eddie's curled up on the couch reading a book. Ok, ok, not just any book. He's reading _Pride and Prejudice_. When Richie first noticed him reading it, he made fun of him for reading a _romance_ novel. Richie started talking in a high-pitched British accent and fake swooning all over the furniture. Within five minutes, Eddie told him to shut the fuck up and to get out of the living room.

Needless to say, Richie continued to make funny of Eddie for his reading selection. Eddie was finally able to shut him up by telling him he was reading it because it was a quote, unquote a _classic_ , and he never had time for reading before between his job and living with Myra. That shut Richie right the fuck up.

The truth is, is that Richie's actually right – Eddie's reading it cause it's a romance novel. Since romance movies weren't able to help him, maybe books can? _Pride and Prejudice_ is one of the top-rated romance novels of all time after all! (Eddie researched this as well).

He's near the end of the book – thank god, cause classic literature isn't really in Eddie's wheelhouse. He's pretty sure he's close to the big climatic, and hence romantic, scene. The two main characters on are misty field in the early hours of the morning. How romantic?

" _lf, however, your feelings have changed…I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on."_

Eddie sighs to himself. God, still not helpful. Of course, he doesn't want to be parted from Richie, they're in a relationship! It's normal not to want to be separated from your boyfriend. Does that mean he's _in love_ with him though?

Eddie flicks through the rest of the book. Nothing. Well, that was a waste of time.

Eddie peers over the top of his book to look at Richie, who's currently pacing back and forth in front of the couch clutching crumpled pieces of paper and mumbling to himself.

Richie's practicing for a show he's doing tonight. Ok, it's not a show, per se. It's actually a private workshop that Liam, Richie's manager, put together to gauge people's reactions on Richie's new material. This is going to be the first _time_ Richie's going to perform his own material in front of an audience.

Eddie can see a layer of sweat forming on Richie's forehead. God, Richie must be close to choking on his nerves.

Richie's worked so hard over the last few months to make sure the show is 150% 'Richie Tozier'. Needless to say, Richie's planning on coming out publicly during the show, so he wants to make sure it's the right balance between obscene, intimate, and light-hearted. If Eddie had to describe the show, he would say it's similar to Hannah Gadsby's _Nanette_ , but with way more cursing and a shit ton of raunchy humor.

The workshop is being held at a private club in downtown Los Angeles. It's the first workshop, of many, so it's going to be a relatively small group of people, at most fifty people. Naturally, Liam and his wife will be there, along with other big-wigs and managers.

In order to get a realistic idea of how people are going to react to Richie coming out, Liam has kept Richie's "rebranding" a secret from other managers in the company, only a select few people in the company know. Which is another reason why Richie is literally sweating bullets. If people react negatively, there's a high chance his ass is going to get dumped. Eddie's not worried about Richie bombing the show; Richie's one of the most magnetic and energetic people Eddie has ever met. It's impossible not to like Richie.

Eddie shifts uncomfortably on the couch as he feels a nervous bubble starting to form in his stomach. Eddie has his own reasons to be nervous. This will be the first time Eddie will be meeting Liam, Richie's manager, along with a handful of other Hollywood managers. It will also be the first time Richie and Eddie will be out together, at an event, as a couple. Richie will actually be introducing Eddie as his _boyfriend_ to other people (after the show). The thought makes Eddie's heart race.

Eddie takes another glance at Richie. Sweat is now soaking through Richie's shirt. Eddie puts the laptop down.

"Rich," Eddie says softly.

Richie doesn't hear him though. He's shuffling through his stack of papers trying to find his line. Eddie's worried Richie's going to rip the paper, he's grasping it so tightly.

Eddie stands and lays his hand on Richie's arm. "Richie."

Richie jumps. "Fuck!" His eyes dart nervously around the room, but relaxes once they land on Eddie. "Oh, sorry Eds. I didn't hear you."

"Rich-" Eddie slowly pulls the papers away from Richie's death grip and places them on the coffee table. "You need to change. You're literally sweating through your shirt."

"Oh, yeah, yeah." Richie looks down at his sweat stained shirt. "God, I'm a fucking mess."

"Well, that's nothing new." Eddie reaches up to cup Richie's face in his hands. Richie's eyes snap down to lock with Eddie's.

A smile spreads across Richie's face. "Hey, fuck you."

"No, fuck you." Eddie smirks before pushing up on his toes, his mouth partially open. His mouth makes contact with Richie's and immediately he feels Richie's tongue swipe along his bottom lip. While Eddie would prefer to just stay here and make-out with Richie, he knows he needs to get Richie's ass moving because tonight is a big fucking deal. Eddie pulls away causing Richie to whimper softly.

Eddie cups Richie's cheek and lightly smacks it. "Alright, come on. You need to get ready."

Richie blinks dumbly. "Damn, Kaspbrak! You're such a tease."

"Shut up. Now, seriously, you need to go get changed. The car is going to be here soon." Eddie pushes Richie toward their bedroom.

"God, you're so bossy." Richie grins back as he walks to the bedroom.

"And, you better not wear one of your shitty graphic shirts tonight!", Eddie yells with a smile on his face.

"Hey, fuck you! Don't tell me what to do!"

/

Eddie and Richie are riding in the back of a black sedan Liam sent. They've been in the car for about an hour and a half, slowly making their way from Malibu to central Hollywood. The event is being held at The Laughing Factory's VIP Room, which is only a couple of blocks from Hollywood and Highland, where the Dolby Theatre and the TLC Chinese Theatre are located, so it's an absolute fucking nightmare to get to. It's Eddie's least favorite part of the city, cause it's fucking crawling with tourists.

Eddie's scrolling through his phone one handed. His other hand resting on Richie's knee; Eddie's thumb just tracing lazy circles round and round. Richie's still practicing his show, mumbling to himself, trying not to look at his pages unless he needs to.

Eddie glances over at Richie. Richie's wearing a faded Nirvana t-shirt underneath an open, long-sleeve button down t-shirt covered in pineapples. When Richie came out of their bedroom wearing it, he was grinning ear to ear; Eddie just rolled his eyes and glared at Richie. Eddie has no idea where Richie manages to find such garish clothes, but somehow Richie manages to pull them off.

Eddie moves his hand from Richie's knee to grasps Richie's hand. Eddie's thumb traces the pad of Richie's hand. Riche's eyes snap over to meet Eddie's. Their eyes lock.

"Hi," Richie says.

"Hi," Eddie whispers.

Richie leans over and softly kisses Eddie. Eddie closes his eyes and leans into the kiss.

Suddenly, they're pulling up in front of the venue and someone pulls the door open. Richie and Eddie jerk away from each other.

"Richie!" someone yells.

Richie scoots out of the car toward the open door. Eddie takes a deep breath, trying to get his nerves under control, then follows Richie out of the car. Eddie steps out to find Richie giving a light hug to a man.

Richie pulls back and smiles down at the other man. "Hey, Liam. Thanks for the car! The traffic was just fucking awful."

"Of course, of course," Liam says smiling.

Eddie's standing awkwardly to the side. He doesn't know how to act in this situation. He's never been the boyfriend of a semi-famous comedian who's performing at a famous venue. Eddie feels like a fish out of water. Richie notices Eddie out of the corner of his eye. Richie grins, grabs Eddie's hand, and pulls Eddie against his side.

"Liam, this is my boyfriend, Eddie," Richie's beams. "Eddie, this is Liam, my manager."

"Eddie! Hi, it's so nice to finally meet you. Richie talks about you constantly." Liam reaches out to shake Eddie's hand.

Eddie extends his hand. "Hi. It's – huh – it's nice to meet you." His face turns a dark shade of crimson; this is the first time Richie's introduced Eddie as his boyfriend. He fucking loves it.

Liam turns his attention back to Richie. "So, Rich, everyone is inside. I'll show you to your dressing room, and then we can get this show on the road!"

"Per - Perfect" Richie nods. Richie's arm is still slung around Eddie's waist; his fist clenching the bottom hem of Eddie's shirt. He can feel Richie shaking next to him. He clasps Richie's hand and squeezes.

They follow Liam to Richie's dressing room, holding hands the entire way. The dressing room is small, but there's a small make-up table and a worn armchair in the corner.

"I know it's not what you're used to, but it's a great place to start. So, I'll tell everyone the show will start in 15 minutes? Yeah?", Liam says.

Richie does a slow turn inside the room, taking it all in. "Yeah, yeah. Good, good." He wipes his hands up and down the front of his pants.

Liam turns to Eddie. "Eddie, I can show you to your table. I reserved one for you."

"Ok, great." Eddie turns to Richie, and gives him a wide grin. "Break a leg, Trashmouth."

Richie smirks. "Thanks, Eds."

Eddie sees a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. He reaches out and grasps Richie's hand. He gives Richie a quick peck on the lips, and he's following Liam out of the room.

He follows Liam into the main room. It's a long rectangular room; its flooring is covered in a lush red carpet and the ceiling is low, giving the room an intimate feel. There are small tables filling the room. Liam shows Eddie to a table in the back, right in front of the bar. On the other end of the room is a small stage.

Eddie gets settled into a chair as he takes in his surroundings. The room is small so he'll be able to clearly see Richie during the show. Eddie orders a gin and tonic, which he nurses, trying to get his nerves under control. Eddie doesn't know why he's so nervous, he's not the one that's about to go up on stage and perform. He's nervous for Richie, of course, but he's also nervous about meeting literally all of Hollywood after Richie's show, afraid of what they're going to think of him. Plain 'ol Eddie Kaspbrak, from middle of nowhere Maine.

Before Eddie knows it, everyone is making their way to their seats and the lights go dim. The audience applauds loudly as Richie appears on stages. Richie's his usual loud, cheerful self, but Eddie can see that under Richie's smile just how nervous he is.

Richie's show starts off lightly, no indication his material has changed. Richie dives into talking about his shitty childhood home and his childhood best friends. He describes each of them – Haystack, Molly Ringwald, Big Bill, Home School, Stan-The-Man, and of course, Eddie Spaghetti. Eddie knew that him and the other Losers were part of Richie's show; Richie had Eddie reviewed his material a million times.

After Richie delivers his first gay joke, the room goes a silent, people confused on whether or not they should laugh. Richie continues, as if nothing happened. This is where Richie's show gets a little more serious, talking about his homophobic childhood home town, and then how he came to terms with his sexuality as an adult. Richie's story is endearing, but at the same time filled with Richie-style vulgar humor.

The further along Richie gets in his routine, the more and more comfortable he becomes. Eddie can see it just in the way he moves. Eddie looks around the room. Everyone's eyes are filled with tears from both laughing and from the sentiment behind Richie's routine; they're completely entranced by Richie.

Eddie's heart bursts with pride. He's so fucking happy for Richie. He watches Richie on stage, completely lost for words. Richie is a natural at this, connecting with people and making them laugh. Eddie doesn't know how he's gotten so lucky. How does someone like Richie - someone so talented, handsome, funny, and well, fuck, so perfect – pick someone as plain, boring, and high maintenance as Eddie? Richie could have anyone, and for some fucking reason, he chose Eddie.

Richie delivers his last joke, then he's thanking everyone for coming and waving as he exits the stage. The audience erupts in applause as they stand up in their seats, giving him a standing ovation. The sound fills the space entirely. There are even people whooping, hollering, and whistling.

Eddie jumps up from his seat and fast walks backstage to Richie's dressing room. He finds the door to Richie's dressing room propped open. He slows down right at the edge of the door, and then gently pushes the door open. Richie is sitting in the armchair, bent in half with his hands planted on top of his knees, his head between his legs. He's sucking in air, trying not to pass out.

Eddie kneels down slowly in front of Richie. He grasps Richie's head and pulls it up to look at him.

"Richie! That was amazing! You did such a good job!" Eddie beams at Richie as he caresses his cheeks.

"Eds…oh my god-" Richie is gasping for breath. "I can't believe I didn't pass out on stage," Richie laughs breathlessly.

Eddie weaves both of his hands into Richie's hair at the back of his neck. "I'm so proud of you, Rich!" Eddie's grinning as he leans his forehead against Richie's.

Richie laughs softly and then he pushes forward to kiss Eddie. Eddie fists his hand into Richie's hair and melts into the kiss. Richie pulls back slightly and then hugs Eddie to his chest and nuzzles his nose into Eddie's neck, right below his ear.

"Oh my gods, Eds. Did I – Did I just do that?"

"Yeah, Rich, you did. You did it. You did great." Eddie has his arms wrapped around Richie's neck. "You were perfect," Eddie whispers into Richie's ear.

Richie pushes his nose into the crook of Eddie's neck. "God, Eds, I couldn't have done it without you – without you being here with me."

"Fuck off. I didn't do anything. That was all you, you big idiot." Eddie hugs Richie tighter, loving the feel of having Richie in his arms.

Richie pulls back slightly so he's looking directly at Eddie. "No, really, Eds. I – I couldn't have done it without you. You have no idea. I feel like – fuck – I feel like I can do anything if you're by my side. I was so afraid that – that people were going to laugh and throw fucking tomatoes at me or some shit. The only reason I was able to go out there was because I knew you were out there. I knew that no matter what – fuck – that I would still be with you. God, fuck, I love you so much."

Before Eddie can so much as form a single word, Richie pulls him for a searing kiss. Eddie moans into the kiss, completely dumbstruck by Richie's words. Eddie's propped up on his knees, fully wedged between Richie's legs. Eddie's arms unwind from around Richie's neck and move down to grasp the back of Richie's shirt.

Richie pulls back to gasp for air. Eddie quickly sucks in a breath of air himself, and then grasps Richie's collar and then pulls him into an open mouth kiss, twisting his tongue with Richie's. Richie's hands snap to Eddie's waist, as he's pulled off the chair by Eddie's force.

A loud knock suddenly reverberates around the room. Eddie and Richie pop off of each other's lips, completely disoriented. Richie, who is hovering about the chair, mid-crouch, thuds back into the armchair, his limbs flaying. Eddie, holding onto Richie's collar is violently pulled into Richie's lap, his head thunking into Richie's stomach. Eddie's arms try to find purchase on the arms of the chair so he can push himself up, desperately trying to get out of the embarrassing and compromising position he's in.

"Richie? Are you in there?" A voice on the other side of the closed-door yells. If Eddie had to guess, it's probably Liam.

"Yeah! Yeah! Give – give me a minute!" Richie yells as he tries to help Eddie up.

Eddie and Richie manage to stand up. Richie's cheeks are flushed, and Eddie's pretty sure he has a similar stain across his own cheeks. They take a second to adjust their clothes and swipe back their disheveled hair. Once Richie's done, he glances at Eddie, silently asking if it's ok to open the door. Eddie threads another loose hair back into its respected place and then nods. Richie opens the door to find Liam, grinning ear to ear, on the other side.

"Richie!" Liam dives and completely envelopes Richie in a tight bear hug. "Oh my god, Richie! You were fucking fantastic! Everyone will not stop telling me how incredible your show was! Everyone is completely floored! Everyone wants to talk to you, Rich! Come on, come on, you need to come meet everyone!"

Liam pulls back from the hug, grabs Richie's arm, and abruptly pulls him out of the dressing room. Before Liam can drag Richie too far, Richie reaches out wide and clasps Eddie's hand. Eddie is jerked forward, and before he knows it, he's at the tail end of a little single-file line moving down the hallway toward the reception hall.

The room is buzzing with people. Everyone has drinks in their hands and they're talking loudly to the person next to them, making it difficult to hear any single conversation.

Richie, and therefore Eddie, are shoved up against the bar. Magically, a tall, sparkling cocktail is placed in each of their hands. Before either one of them can take a sip, they're swiftly turned around to face a group of Hollywood businessmen and their significant others. Introductions are made all around the circle by Liam, but Eddie doesn't catch anyone's name or position. He does hear Liam say "and this is Eddie, Richie's boyfriend." Liam puts a lot of emphasis on the word _boyfriend_. Eddie nods politely at everyone as he turns a new shade of red; he can't hear anything over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Luckily, and rightfully, everyone's attention is on Richie.

"Richie! I cannot even begin to tell you how fantastic your show was!" One businessman says as he shakes Richie's hand enthusiastically. "I mean – so emotional and heartfelt! I couldn't tell if I was laughing or crying the whole time!"

"Yes!" The wife of the businessman jumps in. "I have to tell you, your story of struggle is _so_ inspiring! You're so brave to come out on stage and tell your life story to a group of complete strangers.", she says with a hand over her heart.

And on and on the night went. Richie and Eddie were dragged around the room to meet group after group of business people, who all had the same heartfelt compliments to share. Richie was barely able to get a few words in edgewise with one person before the next person would jump in to get his attention. And Eddie didn't say anything at all, which he was completely fine with.

Richie kept Eddie glued to his side the entire time. Each time Richie would get pulled in another direction; he would quickly grasp Eddie's hand to make sure he didn't lose him in the crowd. Eddie was pretty content with his roll; he would simply hold Richie's hand with one hand, while his other hand held onto his cocktail which, luckily, was frequently replenished.

Richie is currently being adored by a rather boisterous, drunk, and smarmy businessman. His cologne reeks. It burns Eddie's nose and he's pretty sure the odor is being absorbed into his own clothing. The businessman keeps patting Richie, rather harshly, on the back. He's been talking to Richie for a while now. Liam looks really ecstatic about how the conversation is going, and doesn't seem to be in any hurry to move Richie along. If Eddie had to guess, this person is probably someone really high up in the company; someone who has lots of power, influence, and money.

"Richie...Richie…" The drunk, important businessman leans against Riche. "You have no idea how big your show is going to be! Like, fucking huge! Am I right, Liam?"

"Yeah, yeah! Fucking huge!" Liam replies obediently.

"You, my friend," He looks back at Richie. He uncurls his index finger from around his glass to point directly at Richie, while his other hand leans on Richie's shoulder, as if he's the only thing keeping him up straight. "You are going to be in so much demand, you won't know what to do with yourself!" The businessman pushes off of Richie and takes a long drink from his glass. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "So fucking huge! I bet you're going to be booked on tour for a year! No, more than _a year_! Everyone's going to want a piece of you! You could go international, my man!" He laughs obnoxiously.

Eddie, who is sipping his cocktail, sputters. His hand flies to his mouth to keep the liquid from spewing over everyone. Some of the liquid in his mouth falls to the back of his throat causing a coughing fit. He keeps his mouth covered to keep the noise down; he doesn't want to embarrass Richie. Luckily, the only person who notices anything is Richie.

Somehow the Drunk, Important Businessman is still talking. Richie discreetly leans over and lightly pats Eddie's back. "You ok, Eds?" Richie whispers as he feigns interest in whatever the businessman is still talking about.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm – I'm good. I'm ok…," Eddie breathes unevenly, slowly starting to gain control over his cough. While his couch is dissipating, Eddie can feel his chest getting tighter and tighter, making it difficult to breath. "I'm – ahh – I'm going to-" Eddies eyes are frantic, bouncing around the room, trying to find a good excuse to get out the hell out of there so he doesn't have a fucking panic attack in front of all Hollywood. "I'm going to go – I'm going to the bathroom!"

Without looking at Richie, he slams his cocktail glass into Richie's chest, forcing Richie to grab it, and then he's weaving in and out of the crowd trying to find somewhere quiet and private. He manages to squeeze through the crowded space, which somehow feels more cramped and louder than it did before.

Eddie crashes into the door, which luckily isn't locked, and falls into a single bathroom. He flips towards the door and slams the bolt shut. He rests his head against the cool wood of the door, desperately trying to catch his breath. His knees give out and he crumples to the floor. He doesn't know when he started crying, but his cheeks are completely soaked; he's full on bawling.

Eddie shuffles around on his knees so his back is leaning against the door. He covers his face completely with both hands and just sobs. His body rocking back and forth as his chest heaves. He knows he's being pretty loud, but he's also sure no one can hear him over the ruckus coming from the reception hall.

He feels so fucking stupid, more stupid then he's ever felt in his entire life. He should have seen this coming. He knew Richie was going to kill it out there. He knew Richie was going to make it to the fucking big time. He knew Richie was going to go out on tour, and that it was going to be a huge fucking success. What Eddie didn't know, or even foresee, was that it would mean Richie would be gone for a really, really, really long fucking time. The thought makes Eddie whimper, his chest tightening to the point where it's difficult to suck in a full breath of air.

When he imagined Richie going on tour, he thought it would be for a month, maybe two months, at a time. Of course, Eddie was already planning to join Richie on portions of his tour. He wasn't going to join him for the whole tour, of course; Eddie does want to get back to work at some point, but he's spent enough of his life sitting inside a dreary cubicle he knows that's not what life's about.

But the thought of Richie being gone for entire _year_ – fuck – more than a year! Eddie never saw that coming; he feels like he's been slapped. He doesn't know if he's strong enough for that. They might as well be in a long-distance relationship, which he knows a lot of people do, but the last few months being with Richie have been amazing - waking up to Richie in the morning, being held in Richie's arms, feeling his lips against his, seeing Richie's dazzling smile, falling asleep next to Richie. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How is he supposed to go from basking in Richie's sunshine every day to being left alone with nothing but technology to keep them connected?

A soft knock lands against the door, the vibrations travel down Eddie's spine. "Eds? Are you – are you in there?" Richie yells, his voice thick with worry.

Eddie roughly drags his hands down his face, pulling in a sharp breath. "Ye – Yeah. Just – just give me a _minute_." He makes it most of the way through without his voice breaking, but fails on the last word. God, now he's dragged Richie away from the party! Richie should be out there schmoozing with people, not taking care of Eddie's whiny ass.

"Oh – ok." Richie whispers against the wood.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and presses the tips of his fingers against his eyes, trying to get his tears to stop falling. He sucks in a long breath and then slowly releases it. Once he manages to gain his breath back, he presses the palms of both his hands firmly against the bathroom door and awkwardly shuffles them upward to help him stand up from the cold bathroom floor.

He walks over to the sink, gripping the edge of the basin, and looks in the mirror. His face is blotchy, his eyes red and raw. He clearly looks like he's been crying. He splashes cold water on his face trying to erase any evidence of his breakdown. He takes a few more deep breaths, preparing himself to face Richie and the rest of the nameless faces.

Eddie unlocks and pulls the door open. "Hey, sor – sorry about that," Eddie says, trying to pretend he doesn't look like a disaster.

Richie turns to face Eddie. He's chewing on his lower lip, nervously. Upon seeing Eddie's raw face Richie's face goes slack with surprise, his lower lip slowly falling from the grasp of his teeth.

"Eddie," Richie whispers, his hand reaching out to cup Eddie's face.

Before Richie's hand can make contact with his face Eddie pushes his way past Richie. "I – I need a drink." He thinks he might break down completely if Richie touches him so intimately.

"Eddie!"

Eddie hears Richie yell behind him, but he's already pushing his way through the throng of people, shoving people aside to grasp the edge of the bar top. One of the waiters, who noticed Eddie's desperate attempt to make room for himself, walks over and pauses in front him. "I'll have an Old Fashioned." He might have a chance of making it through the rest of the night with something stiff and strong running through his veins.

A hand grasps Eddie's forearm and tugs, angling Eddie away from the bar. "Eddie." Richie's hand is gripping Eddie's arm tightly, his eyes desperately searching Eddie's face, attempting to decipher the reasoning behind Eddie's stained face. "Eddie, what is it? What's wrong?" Richie's eyes are crinkled with concern.

Eddie bites his lower lip, struggling to hold back the tears that are already starting to build in his eyes just from looking at Richie. How is he supposed to live day to day without seeing Richie? Without feeling his touch every day?

"Sir, your drink," a voice behind Eddie says. Oh, thank fuck! Saved!

Eddie lightly tugs his arm out of Richie's grasp, turns, and clutches the drink in his hand. He takes a long drink, almost downing the entire glass in one go. He pulls the glass away from his lips, taking a long, gasping breath.

" _Eddie_ _,_ " Richie hisses behind him, shock lacing his voice.

Richie clutches Eddie's arm again and yanks, pulling his entire body a little further away from the bar. Richie turns Eddie so he's facing him, he puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders.

"Eddie, what's wrong? You're kind of freaking me out here."

Eddie feels the whiskey burning throughout his entire body, slowly trickling through his veins. "Nothin'-," Eddie slurs. He shakes his head slightly. "Nothing, nothing's wrong. Just wanted another drink."

Richie's hands tighten on his shoulders, his face frowning in frustration. "Are you – are you fucking kidding me?"

" _What?"_ Eddie shrugs dramatically, attempting to slink out of Richie's grasp. Richie's fingers dig into the jacket he's wearing.

"Eddie, come on. What is-" Richie doesn't get a chance to finish as he's yanked away and twirled around to face, none other than, Drunk, Important Businessman.

Drunk, Important Businessman slings his arm around Richie's shoulder, pulling him in close. "Richie! There you are! I'm on my way out, but before I go, I wanted to invite you and your boyfriend to a big party I'm throwing at my house tomorrow night! We'll talk some more about your tour and when-"

Eddie doesn't want to hear any more of the conversation. He downs the rest of his drink, and turns back toward the bar. With another Old Fashion in hand, he turns back to Richie who is still in the clutches of Drunk, Important Businessman. Richie looks beyond uncomfortable. Richie's eyes are quickly flickering back and forth between Eddie and the businessman. He's only half paying attention to whatever bullshit the asshole is spewing on and on about. He's trying desperately to quickly end the conversation so he can get back to Eddie.

Eddie, taking another sip from his drink, pretends like he doesn't notice Richie's plight. He feels bad, but he does not want to face Richie right now. Richie notices Eddie's indifference, his eyes narrow toward him.

"So, Richie! Promise me you and your boyfriend will be at my part tomorrow!"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure," Richie agrees absentmindedly, clearly wanting to end this conversation.

"Fantastic!" Drunk, Important Businessman slaps Richie's back one last time, and then stumbles away.

Richie's eyes are locked onto Eddie. The look in his eyes saying 'don't you dare run away from me.'

Eddie does just that. He twists toward the bar as he slams down the rest of his drink. He moves toward the other end of the bar where his waiter is currently taking orders. A hard hand grabs Eddie's forearm before he can so much as take two steps.

" _EDDIE_ _,_ " Richie desperately hisses.

A little bit of Eddie breaks. Fuck. Eddie slowly turns toward Richie, tears beginning to brim his eyes.

"Richie," Eddie whispers.

Their eyes lock.

Richie's grip lightens, but doesn't let go. "Eds."

"RICHIE!" Liam yells as he comes up behind Richie. "I want to introduce you to some people."

Richie squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. "Liam. Can I have a moment, _please_?" Richie turns slightly toward Liam, still holding onto Eddie. "Just for a min-"

Eddie yanks his arm out of Richie's grip. "You should go." Eddie lightly pushes Richie away. "I'll – I'll get another drink and join you in a minute."

"Fantastic!" Liam grabs Richie's upper arm and starts pulling him toward the other side of the room.

As Eddie glances up, he catches Richie's face, which is filled with a myriad of emotions – confusion, hurt, anger. Then he's lost in the crowd. Eddie lets out a soft, wet sob.

He grabs another drink and then slowly walks around the room. He finds Richie stuck in another boring conversation with more important Hollywood people. Their eyes flick toward one another, and then to the floor.

Eddie stands awkwardly next to Richie, attempting to make it look like nothing is going on between them. Richie doesn't reach out to grab Eddie's hand, as he did at the beginning of the night. Instead, Richie keeps his arms tightly crossed against his chest; his face tight. The night continues on in awkward silence as they get dragged around to meet more and more people.

Finally, it's time to leave. Richie and Eddie slide into the black company car. Eddie scoots all the way to the other end of the seat, squishing up against the window to lean his head against it. Richie stays on the other side, not making any move to get closer to Eddie.

After about a half-hour of riding in uncomfortable silence, it's Richie that breaks the silence.

"Eddie," Richie whispers.

"I'm not feeling very well," Eddie whispers against the glass. "I'm goin' to sleep a little before we get home."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Richie deflate.

"Ok." Richie slumps down in his seat.

Eddie, feigning sleep, watches the lights flicker by as he tries to hold back his tears.


	3. Chapter Three

Say Love

Chapter Three

Eddie's POV

The morning light is shining into the bedroom, falling in streaks over Eddie's and Richie's forms in the bed. Mornings are Eddie's favorite. He typically wakes up to cuddles and kisses from Richie, but this morning is different. And not good different. Eddie and Richie are facing away from each other on different sides of the bed, not a single part of their bodies touching.

After they got back from Richie's show, Eddie fell into bed immediately claiming he didn't feel well. He laid awake most of the night, just staring blankly at the wall, his mind whirling.

Eddie peeks at the clock on his nightstand. It's early, but he might as well get up. He's not going to sleep anytime soon. Eddie slides out of bed and pads into the kitchen to make coffee.

With a full coffee mug in hand he steps outside to the back yard. Richie and him haven't spent a lot of time out here as it's early January, but it's a nice. The wooden fence surrounding it is high enough that it blocks out the neighbors. The yard is covered in pale grass, shining with morning dew. There are trees lining the edges casting a fair amount of shade.

Eddie flips the cushion on the patio furniture to avoid a wet ass and then plunks down. His body aches. It feels like he just finished running a marathon, but he's knows it's from his lack of sleep and the remnants of his panic attack last night. He sips his coffee, hoping the caffeine will dull the ache. He stays like that for a while, sitting and staring out at the lightly swaying trees.

His coffee is completely cold by the time he notices Richie pattering around in the kitchen. Eddie freezes, nervous about facing Richie and having to…to do what? Talk about what happened last night? God, he's not ready for that yet. He's still processing everything.

Luckily, Richie just goes about his morning routine. Eddie breaths a little easier. Eddie is in direct line of sight of the kitchen so he knows Richie has seen him. Is Richie actually ignoring him!? He's never done that in his entire life! Richie always rushes to Eddie's side the minute he lays eyes on him. Eddie hearts pangs, hurt by Richie's actions. But…he shouldn't be surprised, not after how he acted last night. Eddie needs to figure his shit out soon. He hates being so distant and cut off from Richie.

Once Richie is out of the kitchen, probably gone to take a shower, Eddie gets up, stretching his tight muscles. He tip-toes into the kitchen putting away his coffee mug.

His eyes flick to the clock on the microwave. It's one o'clock!? When the fuck did that happen? Fuck. He needs to figure his shit out quickly; he and Richie have to go to Drunk, Important Businessman's party tonight. God, fuck, it's the last thing he wants to do.

Eddie grabs cleaning supplies out of the storage closet. Maybe putting his body to work will help him organize his thoughts and feelings? He goes into the guest bathroom to clean the shower and to scrub out the grim that's built up in the tile grout.

Armed in an apron and rubber gloves he scrubs furiously, angrily at the grim, like he's trying to erase the fact Richie's going to be gone for _an entire year_! FUCK! FUCK! Eddie thought the shock might have worn off after a good night's sleep, but it hasn't. It's still as sharp and painful as it was last night. Tears start to brim his eyes.

Eddie imagines Richie traveling city to city, meeting really important, good looking people who are way more interesting than Eddie. God, what if Richie realizes how boring, annoying, and needy Eddie is? He'll realize that he can get anyone he wants. He could have someone who's successful, confident, doesn't have fucking anxiety problems, and is fucking hot. Everything that Eddie is not. Why would he want Eddie over someone like that?

A sob rips out of Eddie, pausing his gloved-covered hand on the tile. He's leaning back on his knees. Tears fall from his cheeks onto the sud-covered tile.

Eddie takes a deep, shaky breath. Breath, Eddie, breath!

Richie loves him. He does! No matter how surprising it is, Eddie knows that Richie truly loves him. He feels it when Richie holds him, when Richie kisses him. God, he feels it when Richie fucking teases him. But most of all, he sees it in Richie's eyes when he looks at him. Even after being together for a few months, it still takes Eddie's breath away how much Richie is in love with him.

After all, Richie's unbridled love for him is what made Eddie question his feelings for Richie in the first place! He can't start questioning Richie's feelings for him now. He can't! He has to have faith in Richie. He doesn't actually think Richie will cheat on him. These thoughts are coming from Eddie's own insecurity and self-deprecation, which, until recently, always pushed Eddie in the wrong direction his entire life. His Ma knew this. Myra knew this. They both used his insecurities to keep him under their control, but Richie doesn't do that. He loves Eddie for who he really is.

Eddie knows his anxieties and self-deprecating thoughts aren't going to go away overnight. It's something he's going to have to work at for a long time, but he won't let it tear him and Richie apart. Even a fucking alien clown couldn't do that!

So, where does that leave him and Richie? Richie will be traveling non-stop, leaving Eddie to amble around the house, or having to drag himself to work, while he waits for a text or call from Richie. His whole day will revolve around when he'll be able to talk with Richie next. When will Richie text back? When can they talk on the phone? Will Richie be able to FaceTime tonight? When in the actual fuck will Eddie be able to see Richie again?

Is he actually strong enough to do that? He can't allow that to be his whole world. Yeah, ok, Richie is Eddie's world, but he can't allow Richie being gone to consume him to the point where he can't fucking function. Eddie has to move forward too or else he'll be nothing but a pathetic excuse for a human being at Richie's feet. That wouldn't be fair to Richie.

Eddie has to focus on getting better and yes, at some point, he does want to go back to work. He actually likes his job, cause he's good at it, thank you very much! And, once he's fully healed, he wants to start running again. It's the one thing he did when he was with Myra that he actually liked. He wants to continue doing that for himself. Maybe he can work on his cooking too! It would be nice to be able to cook a nice, home cooked meal for Richie when he's back home. He'll be so tired of take-out and sleeping in hotel rooms that Eddie wants to make him feel loved when he's home.

Eddie lets out an easy breath as he throws the wet sponge into the bucket. Ok, ok. He can do this! He can do this for Richie! It will be hard, but he can do it. He never ever wants to hold Richie back, and if this is what it takes to be with Richie, then he'll do it. He'll do anything if it means he gets to be with Richie.

Eddie flicks his wrist to look at his watch. Fuck. How long has he scrubbing this fucking floor? He needs to get ready if he and Richie are going to go to this fucking party. Eddie cringes. God, he does not want to go to this fucking party, but he knows it important to Richie.

Eddie groans. Fuck, how the fuck is he going to face Richie? He's been a complete ass since the party last night! Richie must be so mad at him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie gets up from the bathroom floor, leaving the bucket and cleaning supplies there. He opens the door to the bathroom and peers into the guest bedroom. Ok, no Richie. Good. He does the same thing when he goes to their bedroom to change. Still no Richie.

Eddie pulls on his clothes, which he deems presentable enough for a Hollywood party; they're not formal, more casual, but not _too_ casual, aka Eddie-casual. Maybe once he shows Richie he's back to his normal self, Richie will drop the whole thing? He'll be so glad he won't even bring up last night!

Eddie walks out of the bedroom to go in search of Richie. He spots Richie, who is on the living room couch, twisted into an angry ball. Eddie pauses under the archway to the living room. He flexes and un-flexes his hands, trying to calm his nerves. Richie looks mad – no, he looks downright _pissed_. He thinks he can see actual fumes coming off of Richie, he looks so fucking pissed. Richie's arms are crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders are hunched around his ears, and he's scowling. He's slightly twisted away from Eddie, but not enough that he can't see him. Richie is blatantly ignoring Eddie, another first.

Eddie hesitantly steps into the living room. "Hey – uh – I'm – I'm ready to go – when - whenever you are." Eddie shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, to stop his hands from twitching.

Richie's head snaps toward Eddie, his eyes burning with anger. "Ooooohhh, are you actually _talking_ to me now?" Richie deadpans.

Eddie cringes. Ok, he deserves that.

"Richie, I – uhhh – we should probably – uhh – get going, you know? Traffic-" Eddie gulps, thinking if he can just get Richie off of the couch, out of the angry ball he's twisted himself into, this will all just go away. "Traffic is going to be a bitch, you know?" The last bit trials off into a whisper as Eddie glances up to look at Richie, who is about to explode.

Richie is glaring daggers at him, his eyes burning. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Am I supposed to be happy that, out of the fucking blue, you've finally decided to talk to me? I mean, not _actually_ talk to me-" Richie unwinds his arms and grabs a pillow, which he starts punching into shape in his lap. "You know, about _the thing_ we need to talk about, but _hey_ , you're talking to me – so – yay - I guess." Richie shrugs, frowning down at the pillow.

Eddie goes back to staring at his sock-covered feet, he's so embarrassed. Ok, so, he might have to rethink the whole 'Richie is just going to let this drop thing'.

"I'm – I'm sorry, ok?" Eddie walks over to the couch and sits down on the edge of the couch a few feet from Richie. He's twisted toward Richie, but he's still staring at his feet. "I just – I just got a little overwhelmed, that's – that's all. All of the noise and people, and…I guess I had too much alcohol…I just needed a moment alone…and then, when you showed up at the bathroom…I was – I was just embarrassed." Eddie shrugs. "I probably embarrassed you in front of all of those important Hollywood people. I didn't mean – I didn't mean to ruin your big night."

Eddie's eyes flicker up to meet Richie's, which are boring holes into him. Eddie slots his hands together, putting all of his nervous energy into squeezing them together.

Richie's eyes squint at Eddie, as if he's trying to solve a difficult puzzle. "That – is – fucking - _bullshit_ ," Richie says through clenched teeth. "You're a horrible fucking liar, you know that? How the fuck has no one ever told you that before?"

Eddie's fingernails dig into the top of both his hands, his face recoiling as if he's been slapped. He should have known lying to Richie wouldn't work; Richie's always been able to read him.

"Richie – I-"

"Don't you dare try to push this on me! I don't give a FLYING FUCK about those assholes or my so called 'big night'!" Richie's on fire now. He bounds off the couch and paces in front of the coffee table. "NO! What I care about-" Richie stops, mid-step, and twists towards Eddie. "- is that my _BOYFRIEND_ sprinted out of the room, locked himself in the bathroom, and cried his FUCKING EYES OUT!" Richie goes back to pacing in front of the table. "And when I try to comfort him, and figure out what the fuck is wrong, he RUNS AWAY from me! He drinks half his weight in FUCKING WHISKEY, and ignores me and pushes me away, literally into other people, so he doesn't have to talk to me! So, I tell myself, I should just give him space, let him sleep on it, maybe he'll cool down, and then come talk to me tomorrow. But NO! He continues to ignore me the ENTIRE FUCKING DAY! And, now-" Richie slides to a stop, again turning to face Eddie. "You want to pretend as if none of it _EVER HAPPENED_!" Richie screams, his face red, his chest panting from rage.

During Richie's rant, Eddie had curled up into a tiny ball on the couch. His face is streaked in tears and red, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He could die from the amount of humiliation, guilt, and embarrassment that are consuming him.

"I'm…" Eddie takes a shaky breath, wiping his eyes so his tears will stop falling into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I am! I'm so sorry for – for everything. I'm sorry for pushing you away – I was just…so upset…I didn't know what to do." Eddie gulps and looks up at Richie.

"What? What were you so upset about? And don't you dare try to lie, cause, you fucking suck at it." Richie looks like he's about ready to throw something.

"I…I…" Eddie doesn't know how to put into words what happened. How all of his anxiety, fear, and uncertainty all came bubbling to the top, ending in a catastrophic emotional breakdown. His mouth is flapping like a fish as he tries to grasp a word – any word! He feels like he's drowning, he's so lost. In desperation, he squeezes his eyes shut, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "I – I - I was upset by that stupid, fucking asshole, OK!"

Richie's face goes blank, clearly confused. "Wha – What asshole? There were a lot of assholes there!"

Eddie has found his ability to speak again, but can't seem to put his thoughts together coherently. "The – the really drunk one! With the horrible cologne! He - he seemed like he was a really big fucking deal!" One of Eddie's hands is making the 'come on, you what I'm talking about' gesture. "He was all over you and – and – the one that invited us to the party!" Eddie points his finger, finally able to articulate his messy thoughts.

"Ok? So?" Richie shrugs, still confused. "You were upset about his horrible cologne? Cause, if you think it was bad for you, I could practically fucking taste it!"

"No! No!" Eddie shakes his head violently. God, he doesn't know how to say this!

"Ok!? So, you were upset he was all over me? I mean, he was fucking drunk. The fucker could barely stand-"

"I was upset cause he said YOU WOULD BE GONE FOR A YEAR!" Eddie screams. "FUCK, he said you would be gone _more than a year_!"

Richie's mouth is hanging open from pausing mid-sentence. His eyes start to narrow, slowly absorbing this new information.

Eddie plows forward. "I – I just didn't see it coming. I knew that you were going to go on tour, of course, but – you know – I thought you would be gone for like, a month at a time, maybe two. I didn't think you would be gone for a whole _fucking year! Or more_! I know – I know I was so _fucking stupid_ to think that." Eddie covers his face with his hands, lowering it in shame. "I mean, of course your show is going to be a big fucking hit! How could it not be? I just wasn't prepared for you to be gone that long! It took me by surprise and I didn't know how to handle it!" Eddie gulps, sliding his hands down to look up at Richie, who is completely entranced by Eddie's words. "I guess, I just needed some time to think about it. To figure out what it means – for me – for _us_."

"Eddie," Richie whispers.

Eddie jumps in, gaining energy. "I mean – we'd basically be in a long-distance relationship, right? With you being gone that long. And, once I'm healed…I'll be going back to work so I won't be able to travel with you for long periods of time. Sure, we'll be able to call each other, text each other, and FaceTime, but it – it won't be the same – you being gone that long." Eddie's gaze becomes unfocused, imagining what it's going to be like. "I'm going to miss you _so much_ – not waking up with you, not being able to kiss you, or just spend the day with you-" Eddie gulps, tears brimming his eyes. "It's going to suck _so - fucking – much_!", Eddie squeezes his eyes closed.

"Ed-"

Eddie's eye flick back to Richie. "I hope you know that I never want to hold you back. You're incredible at what you do. You make so many people laugh, including me, and I - I never want you to stop doing that. And-" Eddie takes a deep breath. "And, if that means you have to be gone for a year, or more,-"

"Eddie, pleas-," Richie pleads, trying to stop what's about to happen.

"-then, we'll make it work." Eddie smiles softly.

"Eddie, please don't-" Richie's squeezing his eyes shut and then freezes. "Wait, did you – did you just say-," Richie slowly opens his eyes.

"We'll make it work, Rich." Eddie's smile spreads into a grin, a fire starting to burn in his eyes. "It won't be the same, without you here with me, but…I'll take whatever I can get, as much as I get. I hope you know I'll be texting you constantly, about every stupid fucking thing – telling you good morning, telling you when I'm going to the store, sending you pictures of whatever I'm having for lunch – and I expect the same from you! And, we'll – we'll talk and FaceTime multiple times a day. And – and I'll try as much as I can to come and spend time with you! We can do it. I know we can cause – cause it's us."

Richie's completely speechless, tears shining in his eyes. "Eddie. Oh my god, Eds." Richie plunks down next to Eddie, grabs his face, and pulls him into a deep kiss. Richie pulls back, his hands still cupping Eddie's face. "Oh, my little spaghetti. You're adorable, you know that?"

"Don't patronize me, Richie! I'm bearing my soul out here!" Eddie spits back.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Richie laughs, rocking his head against Eddie's. "It's just that – oh god, Eddie – he didn't _literally_ mean that I would be gone for a year."

"Wha – What do you mean he didn't mean that!? That's what he fucking said!"

Richie's hands move down to grasp Eddie's. "Eddie, he's a _manager_!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean!?" Eddie yells, starting to get agitated.

Richie laughs lightly. "Eds, he's a bigtime, _Hollywood_ manager. It is literally his job to stroke my ego, to make me feel like I'm – I'm their biggest, best, and most important client so I don't dump their asses and go find someone else. They exaggerate _everything_! I'm sure it's practically written into their job description, as a matter of fact. He was just – just trying to make me feel good about my show and make it into something bigger than it is."

"oh." A bright, burning flush spreads across Eddie's face. He feels so small and dumb; the most gullible and naïve person on the planet.

Richie cups Eddie's cheek. "Eddie, my precious little spaghetti, I'm sorry if that scared you. I – I would never want to be gone from you for that long. God, Eds, the longest I've been away from you is, like, _8 hours!_ You think I could be away from you for _entire fucking year_!?"

"What!? What do you mean _8 hours_!? You were gone for an entire week when we were in New York!"

"Yeah! But I mean since we've gotten together! You know, since I'm now allowed to kiss you, hold you, hold your hand, all that good stuff. God, I'll have to work my way up to being gone from you for, like, a week! You know, I should find a way to bring you along with me…you know, like an emotional support animal. An emotional support Eddie!"

Eddie barks out a wet laugh, tears still running down his face. "Oh my god, Richie! You are so fucking stupid!" He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Richie smiles before his face falls, taking on a serious look. "Eds, I know that me going on tour will mean that I'll be gone for a little while, which will suck no matter how short it is, but, like you said, we'll make it work. I'll do everything I can to make it work – to make _this_ work." Richie looks into Eddie's eyes. "Even if I'm gone for a couple of days, I'll text you non-stop! I'll call you just to hear your voice! I'll – I'll call just to hear you call me an idiot!"

"Oh my god, Richie. Do you – do you mean it?"

"God, of course, I do! I love you," Richie pulls Eddie against his chest, pushing Eddie's head into the crook of his neck, rocking both of them. "I love you so much," Richie mumbles into Eddie's hair.

Eddie's arms wrap around Richie's back, stuffing his face into Richie's neck. "Richie…" Every emotion Eddie's ever felt for Richie comes bubbling up and fills his entire chest. It burns, but it's a warm, comforting kind of heat. He's never felt so loved. God, he's been such a fucking _idiot_. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Eddie repeats over and over, not knowing how else to convey how truly sorry he is.

Richie slowly pulls back and moves his hands back to cup Eddie's cheeks. "Eds... Hey, listen to me!"

Eddie's mouth snaps shut, his full attention on Richie.

Richie continues. "Do you remember what you said to me when I was sick?"

Eddie's eyebrows cock up, perplexed. "Uhhh…"

"You told me to _bother_ you if I was upset or had a bad day or some shit." Richie's staring very pointedly at Eddie.

"Ok? OH!" Realization, with a hint of shame, floods Eddie. "oh."

"Yeah, soooo-"

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out and then immediately cringes, annoyed at himself.

Richie blinks slowly, annoyed. "Eddie, stop. I just – I – I need you to tell me when you're upset, or angry, or-" Richie sighs. "I just need to _talk to me_. Please don't run away from me. I don't know what to do when you do that. I know we're not very good at…talking…but I want you to feel like you can come and talk to me, about anything. I – I want to take care of you too, ok?" Richie gazes lovingly at Eddie.

Eddie's choked up with emotions, again. He nods his head vigorously as the words can't seem to find a way out.

"Ok…good. Now, c'mere." Richie pulls Eddie into another crushing hug, one hand tangling into Eddie's hair, the other wrapping around his shoulders.

Eddie's arms reach up through Richie's arms to grasp at Richie's back. Eddie wedges his face into the base of Richie's neck, breathing in pure Richie.

"I'm sorry. 'm so surry," Eddie mumbles.

"Oh my god! Stop!" Richie pulls back slightly, not letting either of his hands drop. "Eddie, stop, ok? Listen – if you – if you kiss me right now, I'll forgive you, ok?"

Without a second thought Eddie surges forward clashing his lips with Richie's. Richie's pushed back slightly by the force, but after a second he's pushing back against Eddie's lips.

Richie pops off Eddie's lips. "There. You're forgiven. Now, more kisses!" Richie plants kiss after kiss on Eddie's face.

"Oh my god, Richie!" Eddie shrieks, squirming in Richie's embrace.

"Awww, is my little spaghetti getting embarrassed by all this attention?" Richie coos, peppering him with more and more kisses.

"Oh my god, stop calling me that! You're such _an idiot_!" Eddie half-heartedly swats at Richie. "Richie, stop! We need to get going!"

The kisses suddenly stop. Eddie opens his eyes. Richie's biting his lip, looking uneasy.

"Rich?"

"Can I say something?"

"Uhh…sure?"

"I don't want to go to this party," Richie blurts out.

"You - you don't!?"

"NO! That guy was a fucking asshole! I don't want to be surrounded by drunk fucking assholes like that all night! Don't tell me _you_ want to go!?" Richie pulls back slightly, untangling himself from Eddie.

"Wha – What!? No, of course I don't want to fucking go! But he was like a big-time Hollywood manager! Isn't he going to be mad or something if you don't go?"

Richie shrugs. "Who fucking cares? He was so drunk he probably doesn't even remember inviting us. And, if he _does remember_ , he'll be so drunk tonight he won't even notice if we don't show up. No! Do you know what _I_ want to do tonight!?" Richie smirks mischievously at Eddie. "I want to stay in my pajamas, order Indian food, and then cuddle with you on the couch while we binge-watch The Great British Baking Show!" Richie's glowing with excitement, bouncing up and down on the couch.

Eddie's eyes blow wide. A shiver runs through his body. That is most romantic, sweet, corny, domestic thing he as ever heard and god damn it, he fucking loves that idea.

Eddie laughs. "Rich, are you sure? That sounds…fucking amazing, but I – I don't want it to like effect your show or how he treats you or some shit."

Richie smirks and then pats Eddie's cheek lightly; Eddie instinctively swats it away. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Spaghetti. I'll text Liam and tell him I'm too hungover to go to the party. He'll cover for me. That is _his_ _job_ after all." Richie reaches behind him to grab his phone, his fingers dancing across the screen. "There! Done!" Richie locks his phone and beams up at Eddie. "Now…" Richie crosses his legs on the couch, grasping his ankles, emulating his twelve-year-old self. "Get out of those stuffy, boring clothes. I'm going to order us some Indian food!" Richie pulls the laptop sitting on the coffee table into his lap, already pulling up the page to his usual place.

"Ok. Sure."

Eddie leaves Richie typing furiously on the couch. He walks into their bedroom and strips out of his clothes. As Eddie's pulling on his pajamas, which are just a pair of Richie's sweat pants and a threadbare t-shirt, he can feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He's so overwhelmed with happiness and joy and – and - god, he feels like he's on cloud 9, he's so fucking happy! Just thinking about everything Richie said - about how much he loves him, about how he doesn't want to be away from Eddie, about he would rather spend the night in with Eddie instead of with some Hollywood assholes! God, Eddie could kiss Richie senseless.

Eddie plops down on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of socks; he hates having cold feet. While Eddie's beyond excited that Richie won't be gone for an entire year, he was completely serious about everything he said. It would have fucking sucked; there would have been days where he would have been consumed with self-doubt – does Richie still love him, does Richie still want to be with him, is he good enough for Richie - but Eddie would have endured all of that, and more, just to be with Richie. Just to be able to spend a minute in Richie's arms.

Eddie sighs as he stands up from the bed, making his way back to the living room. Thankfully, Eddie doesn't have to worry about that now. They'll be together as much as possible; they'll make it work.

Eddie finds Richie's scooted into the corner of the L-shaped couch. He's placed a blanket over his legs, underneath the laptop. It doesn't look like Richie's moving anytime soon. Richie glances up over the top of the laptop.

"Ohhh, looking good, Eds."

Eddie kneels on the couch, next to Richie, and sits back on his legs. He's curved into Richie's side, looking over his shoulder at the screen. "What are you ordering?"

"Hmm, let's see. All of the Naan, all of the Samosas, Chicken Tikka Masala, Lamb Coconut Curry, Chicken Tandoori, Oh – and a Mango Lassi! Do you want a Mango Lassi? What am I talking about, of course you do!"

Eddie laughs, resting his head against Richie's shoulder. "Oh my god, Richie. We'll never be able to eat all of that!"

"Huh – duh. That's what leftovers are for!"

"Did you order rice? It's always separate, you know?"

"Oh my god, you're right! Rice - need to order rice." Richie clicks frantically a few times and then turns towards Eddie, reaches over and pinches his cheek. "See, that's why I need my little spaghetti."

"Stop calling me that!" Eddie whines as he swats at Richie.

Richie yanks his hand back, making kissy noises at Eddie. Eddie huffs. Richie focuses back on the laptop, making a few quick clicks.

"There! Ordered! Now, let's get comfy and watch Great British Baking!" Richie beams.

Richie reaches his arm long and places the laptop on the coffee table, before scooting back into the crevice of the couch, his knees bent with his feet pointing toward Eddie and the long end of the couch. Richie flips the blanket off of him and reaches his arms out wide toward Eddie, making grabbing hands. Eddie smiles wide at Richie's actions. Even though this is 100% Richie, it still takes Eddie by surprise by how unabashed Richie is about expressing his feelings for Eddie. It feels good to know someone wants you.

Eddie crawls toward Richie, and then twists himself around to sit in-between Richie's legs. He falls back softly to rest on Richie's chest, careful not to put too much pressure on his stitches. Richie pulls the blanket back over, covering both of them, and then winds his arms completely around Eddie. Eddie reaches up to grab onto Richie's forearms. Richie lays his cheek on top of Eddie's head, and just breathes in contently. Eddie closes his eyes enjoying the feel of Richie's warmth surrounding him. Eddie could live in Richie's embrace.

After a beat, Richie pulls back one hand to shove it into a dark crack between the couch cushions. He moves his hand around, digging for something before quickly pulling out the TV remote.

"Now, where did we leave off?" Richie points the remote at the TV, flickering through apps and TV shows. "Ahh, yaasss, bread week!" Richie selects the episode, lightly throws the remote on the couch, and wraps his arm back around Eddie. Eddie could die with how happy he is. He leans back fully into Richie's chest and watches the show, enjoying the rumble of Richie's laughter against his back more than the actual show.

They're at the tail-end of one episode when the food arrives. The doorbell rings loudly through the house taking Eddie by surprise. He jerks in Richie's arms, half-asleep, completely content and warm from being surrounded by Richie. Richie snickers, pushing away to stand up from the couch. Richie pads into the foyer; Eddie hears the front door open, some light chatter, and then the door clicks shut.

Richie struts into the living room clutching two take-out bags, one in each hand. "Food has _ARRIVED_!" Richie sings, swinging the bags high above his head as if he's showing off a kill he brought home. "Ooww, owww, owww." His arms strain under the weight of the food; he quickly drops the bags back down to waist level. "Oh my god, owww! Fuck, I think I pulled something," he whines, marching into the kitchen.

" _Jesus_ , Richie!" Eddie springs off the couch, following Richie into the kitchen. "You're such a _dumbass_." Eddie laughs, coming to stand on the other side of the kitchen island where Richie is pulling out take-out containers.

"Umm, excuse me!? You're not going to get any food if you're going to say such mean things." Richie points at Eddie between taking out containers.

Eddie rolls his eyes before walking around the kitchen island to open a kitchen cabinet. Eddie reaches up, stretching up on his tip-toes to grab plates, but they're just out of reach. He pushes up to the very tip of his toes, but his stitches are tugging at his skin, threatening to tear. He huffs in frustration, falling back down to his feet.

Eddie twists around. Richie is facing away from him still pulling out containers. "Richie?"

"Hmmm?" Richie doesn't even bother turning around.

"Could you – could you help here?" Eddie winces, his embarrassment evident in his tone.

Richie twists to look over his shoulder at Eddie. His eyes bounce from Eddie to the open cabinet. A grin slowly spreads across Richie's face.

"Oh ho! What is this? Does my _little_ Eddie Spaghetti need my help?"

" _SHUT UP_! I could reach it – it's just – I don't want to pull my stitches!"

"Oh sure, Eds, whatever you say." Richie steps next to Eddie, easily reaches up and pulls down two plates. He's grinning ear to ear the entire time. Eddie frowns, flipping him off.

Richie places them on the counter. " _You're welcome_ ," He says sweetly, mockingly, and then pecks a quick kiss to Eddie's lips. Eddie's eyes narrow.

Eddie places the plates on the dinner table, and then busies himself with setting the rest of the table – napkins, utensils, etc. Eddie turns to grab one of the take-out containers.

"Hey! Hey! Let me do that!" Richie swats at Eddie with a dish towel and pushes him toward the dinner table. "Shoo! Shoo!"

"Ok! Ok! _Jesus_!" Eddie throws his hands up, sitting down at the dinner table.

Richie pulls out Eddie's napkin, snaps it open with an exaggerated flourish, and places it in Eddie's lap delicately like a waiter at a 5-star restaurant. " _Monsieur_." Richie bows deeply, one arm behind his back.

Eddie sighs loudly, already exasperated at Richie's cheeky mood. God, it's going to be a _night_. Richie grins widely; he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Now! For dinner ton'ght-," Richie says with a horrible French accent as he turns, picks up a container and places it in the middle of the dinner table. "We 'ave a bea-u-ti-ful orange, spicy dish! Sehr delish-i-ous-o!"

"I don't even know where to start…" Eddie stares into the depths of the Chicken Tikka Masala.

Richie places the Samosas on the table. "Und, 'his ist an enorm dumpluln'. Muy bein!"

"You do know those are all different languages, right?" Eddie's starting to lose it; he places a hand over of his mouth, trying to hide his laughter.

Richie twists around again, this time holding a plate of naan. He places it next to the Samosas, and then grabs a whole naan and throws it up in the air like pizza dough. "Yo must _'hrow_ tha dough – let it 'reath", Richie has moved onto a horrible Italian accent. He somehow manages to catch the naan, and then, much to Eddie's horror, throws it up again, even higher. " _Mamma Mia_!"

Eddie cracks. "Oh my _fucking god_! You are so fucking _stupid_! _God, I love you_ ," Eddie says through tears of laughter.

Richie freezes, gaping. The naan falls down straight in front of Richie's frozen face and lands directly in the Chicken Tikka Masala, splattering both Richie and Eddie with bright orange sauce.

"Oh my god, _Richie_!" Eddie jumps up, wiping up the orange speckles on his face with his napkin. "No more throwing food in the house! God, what are you? _A child_?" Eddie throws his stained napkin down onto the table to glare at Richie.

Richie looks like he is stuck in time. His hands are up from the motion of throwing the naan, his face completely still with his mouth hanging open, eyes blown wide. The orange spots on his shirt are dripping, slowly making their way down, splattering onto the floor.

"Richie? Are you ok?"

At the sound of Eddie's voice Richie jerks back to life. His hands slowly fall down to twist together in front of him.

"Do you – do you mean it?" Richie breathes softly as he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

"Wha-" Before Eddie can finish, it hits him.

Eddie gasps. Holy fuck. He said it. He _actually_ said it. Eddie didn't plan to say it; it just came out, completely on its own.

Eddie eyes bounce back to Richie, who has shrunken in on himself. Richie's squeezing his hands in a death grip leaving his knuckles white. He's biting his lower lip in apprehension. It occurs to Eddie he's only ever seen Richie like this - totally exposed, with all of his walls and barriers down – once before, when they first got together.

Eddie knows Richie has loved him since they were kids, but looking at Richie now, with all of his barriers down, Eddie realizes that during that _whole time_ , for more than three decades, Richie has secretly been hoping, preying even, for Eddie to love him back. Richie's opening himself up to something he never thought was possible. Eddie glances up to stare into Richie's baby blue eyes, which are always so expressive and full of light; although now, Richie's eyes are filled with doubt. It breaks Eddie's heart.

"Richie-" Eddie takes a step forward.

Richie shakes his head, finally coming to as he takes a step away from Eddie. "Eds, please – please don't say it unless you mean it." He squeezes his eyes shut, mashing his hands over his face. "If you – if you didn't mean it, we can just – just forget about it, ok? It never happened."

Eddie surges forward, grasping Richie's wrists to pull them away from his face before smashing his mouth against Richie's. Richie moans into the kiss. Eddie loosens his grip, slowly trailing his hands up to enwind their fingers together. Their chests are pressed up against each other, the splattered sauce on both of their shirts fusing together.

With some reluctance Eddie pulls back, off of Richie's lips. He doesn't go far though; he can still feel Richie's ragged breath against his skin. Eddie's eyes flutter open to look up into Richie's eyes which are blinking open slowly.

"I love you," Eddie whispers against Richie's jaw.

Richie sobs; bending his head to rest on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie untwines their fingers to wrap his arms around Richie's shoulders, one hand resting on the back of Richie's neck.

"I love you so much, Richie."

" _Eddie!_ " Richie whines. A wetness pools in the crook of Eddie's neck.

Eddie pulls back slightly. "Richie? Are you crying?"

Richie, who is clearly crying, shakes his head. "NO!" Sniffing loudly, he wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

"Yes, you are," Eddie teases.

"SHUT UP! It's a lot to take in when the guy I've loved since I was _twelve_ says he loves me! Back the fuck off!" Richie grips the back of Eddie's shirt, showing he wants the exact opposite.

Eddie laughs, pulling Richie back against him. Eddie rocks them back and forth lazily. Richie grips the back of his shirt tighter, tears still falling on Eddie's neck.

"I love you, Richie. I'm – I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. I was able to lie to myself, for years, about being in love with Myra. I didn't ever want to do that again. I've been trying to figure out what it means to be in love with someone when, this _whole time_ , you've been right here, showing me." Eddie pulls back again, to look directly into Richie's eyes.

"Eddie…"

Eddie interrupts him. Richie deserves to know how much he loves him. "I love you, Richie. I loved you last night, during your show. I loved you when you were sick, completely covered in sweat and throwing up." Tears are now cascading down Eddie's face. His love for Richie completely engulfing him, bursting out of his heaving chest, forcing all of his repressed feelings to come spilling out his mouth. "I loved you when we first kissed. I loved you when I was in the hospital, and you came in with all those stupid puddings. I loved you when we were fighting IT. I loved you when we were in that awful Chinese restaurant."

Eddie pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet Richie's. Richie's eyes are bright, full of happiness and disbelief. Looking into Richie's eyes, he remembers all of the moments he's ever shared with him - all the bickering, all the name-calling, all of the ice cream cones, all of the accidental knocking of knees, all of those lazy days sharing a hammock together. Eddie gasps, remembering the same baby blue eyes staring at him from the other side of the hammock.

Eddie presses a soft kiss to Richie's lips. Their lips part, noses still touching, breath mingling.

"I loved you in that hammock," Eddie sighs against Richie's lips.

Richie breaks; crumbling in Eddie's arms, face smashing into Eddie's neck, arms jerking Eddie tight against his chest. Richie mumbles "love you" over and over again against Eddie's skin. He's shaking, so much so, he's putting most of his weight on Eddie.

Eddie presses kiss after kiss to the side of Richie's face, not willing to let go of Richie just yet, but the weight is starting to become excessive.

After a few quick kisses Eddie murmurs, "Rich. I need you to stand up. I can't hold you."

Richie snaps to attention, hands coming down to grip Eddie's waist lightly, steadying both of their weight.

"'orry. Sorry," Richie mumbles. A blissed-out smile spreads across his face.

"It's ok," Eddie mumbles back, his own grin spanning his face.

Without the heat and pressure of Richie's chest against his, a wet, sticky coolness pulls Eddie's attention from Richie's gorgeous smile to his shirt. The small, bright orange spots have spread and dulled to a muddy brown, the largest patches sticking to Eddie's skin. Richie's shirt doesn't look any better.

"Oh! Sorry! Sorry! Here, I can – uh-" Richie releases Eddie's waist, stepping back to grab the bottom of his own shirt. He pulls it over his head revealing his wide – ahem ahem – _toned, slightly hairy_ chest. Eddie's eyes go wide, unable not to stare. A few wet spots are scattered across Richie's stomach and chest.

Richie, holding his shirt in one hand, pauses, unsure what to do or how he even got into this position in the first place. His eyes bouncing around the room, somehow avoiding Eddie. Eddie notices a deeper flush spreading across Richie's face and his chest. They've seen each other shirtless countless times, but this seems…different.

"Here-" Eddie grabs the hem of his own shirt, and starts to pull it up. Just as the shirt is half-way off, the bottom of the shirt smothering his face, he hisses, feeling the stitches in his lower abdomen tightening. Warm hands grab the shirt where it's stuck around his armpits and tug up to pull the shirt off. Fingers trail lightly across the bottom of his raised arms causing Eddie to shiver.

Once he's released from the confines of the shirt he's greeted with the sight of Richie, holding Eddie's shirt, his own shirt having been discarded on the floor. Richie's eyes trail down Eddie's chest, taking in the orange splotches and stitches, watching Eddie's chest heave from his ragged breath.

Richie's free hand extends, slowly moving toward one of the wet spots on Eddie's lower abdomen. Eddie's breath catches in anticipation. Suddenly, Richie's fingers pause, less than an inch from Eddie's burning skin. Richie clenches his hand into a fist, pulling it back as he takes a big step back. The burning of Eddie's skin cools insistently.

"I – uh - I'll go grab us some shirts." A flustered Richie clumsily bends down to pick up his forgotten shirt. "And – uuhh – I'll put these in the – uhhh – the washer! Yeah, that's it!" Richie bundles both shirts in his arms and hurriedly pads out of the room.

"ok…" Eddie whispers to himself.

What the fuck just happened?

When Richie comes back, Eddie has managed to clean up the sauce that splattered over the table top and dripped onto the floor. Even the guilty naan, completely bloated with orange Tikka Masala sauce, is gone. Richie is wearing a new shirt, an extra one in his hand.

Eddie wrings out a dish sponge in the sink, watching Richie shuffle awkwardly, unsure what to do with Eddie's shirt. Eddie drops the sponge into the sink, pads around the kitchen island to stand in front of Richie. Eddie takes the shirt from Richie's limp hand as Richie's taking in Eddie's now clean, bare chest. Eddie pops his head through the top of the shirt. Richie hands start to reach out, before pausing in mid-air, and then dropping to his side. Eddie pretends not to notice, threading his arms through the sleeves.

"Thanks," Eddie says, pulling down the shirt.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure," Richie whispers.

A silent, awkward beat passes. And, then another. Eddie feels a twitch beginning to build underneath his skin, trying to find a way out whether it's in his hands or jingling his foot.

God, why is this so awkward? Sure, Richie and Eddie can barely shut up when they're around each other, but there are moments (rare moments) when they're both silent, just enjoying each other's company. Those silences are comfortable; as easy as breathing. But this – Eddie doesn't know what _this_ is. Whatever the fuck it is, he doesn't like it. If they stay like this much longer, just staring at each other, he thinks they're both going to be consumed and drowned by this awkwardness.

"DO YOU WANT-" Eddie yells unintentionally, before snapping his mouth shut. The sound bounces off the kitchen backsplash and ceramic tile, resonating around the room. Somehow that does the trick though, Richie jerks with a gasp of breath, waking up from whatever fucking weird spell he was under.

Eddie coughs into his hand. "Do you want to eat?"

Richie blinks repeatedly. "Yeah! Yeah! Absol-fucking-utely! I'm fucking starving!"

They sit down at the kitchen table and start to dig in. Eddie was right, Richie ordered _way too_ much food, but everything is fucking delicious so they both have second helpings of everything. Even so, there will be plenty of leftovers. Richie is just as animated and loud during dinner as he always is, as if that brief moment of awkwardness never happened. Eddie sighs in relief, helping himself to more naan as he listens to Richie prattle one.

Washing dishes is the same as always – Eddie washes the dishes; Richie dries the dishes. Richie splashes Eddie with some water. Eddie gets annoyed and then splashes Richie with water. Back and forth, back and forth until Eddie puts a stop to the shenanigans before Richie goes so far as to spray Eddie with water from the faucet.

They end up back on the couch in the same position they were before – Eddie, sandwiched between Richie's legs, with his back leaning against Richie's chest. Within the first fifteen minutes of the show Eddie's eyelids are drooping downward; he's so comfortable and so full of food he's not going to be able to last much longer.

Eddie rests his head back on Richie's upper chest, right below his shoulder. The last slivers of consciousness are floating away as Richie leans his forehead on Eddie's shoulder, his nose nuzzling the hollow of Eddie's exposed neck. A breath of warm air and a soft kiss tingle his skin.

"I love you," Richie whispers against Eddie's skin.

Eddie smiles. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos or comments. I love hearing from you.
> 
> I'm currently working on Part Four, which is going to get - uhhh - steamy. *wink, wink*


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